Ashes to Ashes
by Liberty Roth
Summary: When Queen Anora falls gravely ill, Alistair asks Grey Warden Cybelle Tabris to seek out the Sacred Ashes again. Not alone, of course - a familiar tattooed face pops up in the oddest of places and accompanies her on the quest. f!Tabris/Zevran. Spoilers.


_Every saint has a past and every sinner has a future._  
Oscar Wilde

* * *

During the Blight, Cybelle had grown accustomed to being recognized by citizens of Ferelden. None had _personally_ known her, but it seemed that everyone had at least _heard_ of the traitorous Grey Wardens. The fact that she had been an _elf _wearing _armor _had been as subtle as a giant 'Hey! Look at me! I'm a Grey Warden!' sign around her neck.

But when the armor and the blood and the weapons came off, so did the sign. It was odd to be able to walk through Denerim without anyone stopping to shake her hand or hug her or ask her for something. She was just… _walking_. Of course, _some _gave her a double take or stared at her as she crossed the Denerim market, but no one said anything to her.

It was almost like she had never become a Grey Warden, like she was still an alienage elf. The scars and the sovereigns in her pocket were the only evidence that anything had changed these past two years. The partly ruined buildings that were being rebuilt were evidence, as well, but those were well on their way to being repaired.

She stopped periodically as she crossed through the vendors and their stalls, looking over items and hoping that buying something would settle the twist she felt in her stomach. The nervousness wasn't caused by the idea of seeing her family again – she _wanted _to see them – but by the idea that maybe things would have changed by now.

Shianni was an important bann, after all. Maybe she wouldn't have time to goof around and have fun like she used to. And… what if her father didn't talk to her the same way now that she had killed dozens upon dozens of people? She wasn't his innocent little girl anymore, with the bloody trail that she couldn't seem to rid herself of.

Cybelle usually wasn't one to worry about what people thought of her, but they were her _family. _If she didn't feel comfortable around them, where was she supposed to fit in? Alistair was her respected sort-of-friend, sure, but she doubted he would welcome her with open arms into his palace. The king and the Warden had started to rub each other the wrong way by the end of the Blight, something that Cybelle could trace back to the fact that she had killed Arlessa Isolde.

She hadn't particularly _loved _the idea of killing the arlessa to save Connor, but she hadn't really wanted to waste time by going all the way to the Tower and back, either. The elf scowled as she sifted through various jewelry and baubles in the marketplace. She had done so many things that she wasn't particularly proud of now that she thought about them…

What would her father think of her decisions?

The weight of that thought hung over her as she slowly moved away from the market and toward the alienage. It was almost sunset, far past the time that she had told Shianni she would be arriving.

Surprisingly, when she finally did make her way towards the alienage, she found it was almost completely vacant. There were very few elves standing around and the ones that _were _outside were all gathered around Shianni's home, looking utterly drunk as they guffawed and staggered about.

"Hey!" one of the men called, waving her over. He scrutinized her with unfocused eyes, finally deciding that he recognized her. "Hey! I know you! You're the Hero of Ferelden! I knew you when you were a kid!"

"I see you gotta dagger," a dark-haired elf observed, poking at the belt on her waist. "Did you stop the Blight with that? Can I touch it?"

"Not with the dagger alone," she assured him, frowning as she stepped out of reach. "And I'd rather you told me where I could find Shianni. Does she still live here?"

"Of course she does! Gotta big party going on! Ouch!" The dark-haired elf scowled, rubbing his arm where the first elf had punched him in the shoulder. "Oh! I mean, er, surprise party! Shh!"

"You just ruined the surprise…" the first elf lamented with another punch to the shoulder as Cybelle entered Shianni's home.

She didn't get a good look at the house itself, because so many people were crammed into the relatively small space. It was loud, too, with the clinks of tankards and the chatter of conversation nearly deafening. Shianni, of course, managed to somehow be audible over the roar of the people as she appeared in front of the Warden.

"There you are!" the red-haired woman said, hands on hips. "We thought something had happened to you. I thought you were supposed to be home before dark."

Cybelle's face pulled into a smile, her worries about not adjusting to her former home melting away. Shianni's face and her casual reference of 'home' were enough to make it clear that no matter what she had or hadn't done, she was still an alienage elf. "I'm sorry. I got… er, distracted in the market."

"It's very busy, isn't it? You should have seen the caravans coming into Denerim after the battle was over – they've improved our economy tenfold!" Shianni said, easily keeping up both parts of the conversation as they moved through the crowd, shaking hands and hugging and accepting toasts. "And really… don't worry about being late. We've waited a whole year for you – a few hours wasn't going to hurt us."

"I'm sorry I couldn't visit you sooner. I was-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know. Saving Amaranthine. Everyone knows about _that_, too, cousin."

Cybelle rubbed the back of her neck awkwardly. "It's probably not as bad as it sounds. The city doesn't look _that _bad. It's definitely, er, repairable. Eventually. Within ten years."

"You did what you had to do, right?" Shianni questioned, steering her cousin over to the table where refreshments were lined up one after the other. "And now's the time you get your reward. We've got dwarven ale all the way from Orzammar! Can you believe it? It tastes odd, but it sure does the job quickly…"

"I can tell. I saw your little drunken band of men outside of your door."

"Are they _still _out there? I told them to go home and sleep it off," she sighed, pressing her fingers to her temples briefly. She sat Cybelle down in a chair next to the alcohol, before giving her an apologetic smile. "I'll be right back."

Cybelle nodded, watching her cousin disappear in the crowd of elves that were packed into the household. She rose from her chair, found herself a drink, and then sunk back into the chair with a cup of watered-down alcohol in her hand. Soon a few elves moseyed over to where she was seated and started up a conversation with her.

Well, it wasn't really a conversation, more like… an explanation. Everyone wanted to know where she had been, what _exactly _she had done, and what it was like being a Grey Warden. Over and over and over, people asked the _same _questions, not having heard her answer them two minutes ago.

It wasn't long before she had had enough conversation. Cybelle rose, stretching her arms towards Shianni's ceiling."Alright, well, thanks for the drinks and the questions," she said, placing her still full cup of ale on the table behind her. "I should really head home, though."

Home. She couldn't wait. Her father was going to be there – Cyrion wasn't one for parties and crowds. He appreciated a good wine, but Cybelle knew that fine wines weren't going to be found on the refreshment table behind her. Mediocre wines, maybe, and _definitely _horrible ones.

Only as she was exiting Shianni's home did Cybelle realize that she hadn't seen her cousin for over half of an hour. She had been going to shoo the drunken elves back to their homes, but that wouldn't take half an hour. The alienage wasn't that big – even if the redhead had personally seen them to their homes, it wouldn't take long.

"Hey," Cybelle said, catching the sleeve of a woman that was leaning on a wall near the door. "Do you know where Shianni is?"

"Er, no," the woman said, scratching her chin thoughtfully. "I think she went outside to get Eddis offa her steps."

"And she hasn't come back in since then?"

"Don't think so."

Great. Cybelle sighed, muttering a word of thanks as she pushed open the door and stepped into the streets of the alienage. Shianni wasn't within eyesight, but neither were the drunks, which she supposed was a good sign. Maybe Shianni _had_ escorted the men home and was just very slow getting back to the party.

So the Warden made a slow circle around the alienage, peering into homes periodically to try and spot any candle light or movement. Occasionally a cat would stir and stretch in the shadows of a home, making Cybelle hink that she had found Shianni. Two years ago, Cybelle wouldn't have been this worried about finding Shianni. But… things changed. The seemingly unbreakable Shianni had been hurt, proving that she wasn't as invincible as Cybelle had once thought.

It was the knowledge of what had been done to Shianni that made Cybelle's stomach nervous. Where was her cousin? Where were the drunks, for that matter? Would they…? A light suddenly flickered on in a nearby house, one that she remembered being vacant when she had been conscripted into the Grey Wardens. Automatically, her feet began to move her in the direction of the small home that was shoved into a corner.

It seemed her feet had good instincts, because she could hear Shianni laughing as she paused by the slightly-ajar front door. That was a good sign. Her cousin wouldn't be _laughing _if… well. Cybelle let her fingertips rest against the frame of the door as she listened, trying to decide if she should knock or just go home and see Cyrion.

"And _then _she told me that I resembled an overgrown dwarf!" _That _definitely wasn't Shianni. The voice was smooth, male, and it didn't sound like it belonged to a native of the alienage.

"You don't even have a beard!" Shianni said with a chuckle. Cybelle pushed the door open a small bit – she could see her cousin, seated at a table, looking happy and perfectly safe. However, she couldn't see who the redhead was speaking to; his back was to her as the pair sat at a small table.

"No, no beard. But I _have_ been told that I appreciate a fine dwarven ale just as readily," the elf – yes, he was an elf, she could see his pointed ears poking out from his fair hair – said as he reached for a drink on the table. "Speaking of which – very nice job acquiring such a variety of drinks for your cousin's celebration. Marvelous choices were available."

"But you didn't even drink any! You just have _water. _Where's the fun in that?" Shianni teased.

"I would have indulged, but…" The unknown elf paused, his head tilting slightly as if he was listening to something. Cybelle took a step back – did he know she was there? "I believe I will probably need to be sober for what is about to happen."

"About to happen…? What are you-" Shianni stopped as Cybelle came into the house, clearing her throat to announce her prescence. "Agh, did you have to come and look for me? I'm sorry, I meant to come back, but-"

The rest of Shianni's words were lost as the other occupant of the room stood, rising from his chair and turning towards the Warden. It was him. It was the assassin that had tried to extinguish the surviving Wardens over a year ago. He was dressed in plainer clothing and his tattoo had mysteriously disappeared, but… it was _him_. Cybelle gasped, her fingers automatically flexing for her maul. Except, of course, it wasn't there. She had adagger, of course, but it was a paltry thing that wasn't going to do much good against a trained man.

No. A trained murderer. A trained assassin. A trained Crow.

That was standing next to Shianni.

"Get away from her!" Cybelle ordered, drawing the dagger anyway. It was better than nothing, after all, since she wasn't skilled in hand-to-hand combat. The Crow, on the other hand, had probably been trained to use _anything_ as a weapon. The chairs in the room were starting to look dangerous and heavy.

The Antivan elf sighed, holding his hands up with palms facing outward. "You always were such a charmer," he said, surprising her by not even attempting to tackle her for the knife or grab a chair. "I will gladly step away from her, even though you only have what looks like a small dinner knife to fight me with."

"It's more than you have!" she pointed out, dark eyes watching as he took a few slow, exaggerated steps towards a corner. He didn't look like he was armed… but why would he be here in the alienage without weapons? "What are you doing here?"

"Why, I heard there was a party, of course," he said dryly. "I am not here on Crow business, if that's what you are implying."

"Crow business?" Shianni echoed, looking confused as she looked from the elf to her cousin. "Why are we talking about birds?"

"We're not talking about _birds_," Cybelle said, motioning for Shianni to step closer to the door. They needed to go get Cyrion, get Soris, anyone who might be linked to her… "We're talking about assassins. He was hired to kill me!"

"Yes, but if you remember correctly, I did _not_ kill you. And then you decided not to kill _me_ and I would appreciate it a lot if you would come to the same decision right now," he said, slowly lowering his hands back down. When she pointed her dagger at him and motioned him to raise them up again, another sigh escaped his mouth. "I _promise_ that I'm not here to kill you."

"Right, because assassins_ never _fail to show up on the day of a party," Cybelle said, gripping Shianni by the upper arm and attempting to move her through the door. Perhaps Shianni could fetch Cyrion and Soris while she stayed here to make sure the Crow stayed put. "And they _always _chat up the cousin of the person they were hired to kill."

"I'm… not sure what you two are talking about, but he didn't show up today," Shianni said after a moment, freeing her arm from the Warden's grasp. "He's lived there for a while."

"Yes, I have. I would prefer to continue living there, if it's alright with you."

"And I would prefer to continue _living_, which means that _you can't stay here_."

A look of impatient frustration passed over the elf's face. "Would you like to ask me questions? I will gladly answer them. Honestly. Then you can decide whether or not I can stay here."

"Let me ask the first question," Shianni said when Cybelle didn't respond to his offer. "What is she talking about? Crows? Assassins? You two know each other?"

Zevran nodded somewhat reluctantly, moving very slowly (he didn't want to get a dagger thrown into his chest, after all) to drag a chair over to his corner. He sank into it, looking like he was ready for a brutal session of interrogation. "Yes. I am a Crow – an Antivan assassin. I met your cousin when I was ordered to kill her."

"Obviously, that didn't work very well," Cybelle said, her eyes still watching for the slightest movement that was out of place. "He offered to join me. I said no. In fact, I distinctly remember telling you to go back to the Crows."

"Hmm. Well, yes, I believe you did. However, if I told you to stick your hand into a viper's nest, would you do it? Ah, see? Your expression is answer enough."

"So you're here… for safety?" the Warden questioned skeptically. "Why would you come to an alienage? To _my _alienage, of all places?"

"Because I like living! Why else?" he questioned, the frustrated expression passing over his face again. "The Crows would never think to look in an alienage for me."

"I can't believe this," Shianni said after a moment, glancing towards her cousin. "We've had an assassin living in the alienage and we didn't even know it? You – you came to our parties, you drank at our weddings and you didn't even think we should know about your past?"

"I did not think it was important at the time. My life with the Crows is separate from my life here. They are not the same and I hope they never will be."

"You didn't even think it was important when I told you that Cybelle is my cousin? You have assassins after you! They could come to the alienage! I'm the _bann_, I should know this sort of stuff!"

"If you knew, you would have made me leave or had me arrested, I'm sure," the elf explained. "My intentions were to live here as long as possible without attracting attention to myself. When you told me that the Warden lived here, I was… unsure of what to do. I could leave and go to another alienage, perhaps, but people would gossip. After all, I left the second that you told me the Warden was your cousin? Suspicious."

"That's true," Shianni said reluctantly, folding her arms across her chest. "I… I guess I'm alright with you staying here. If– don't glare at me, Cybelle – _if _you convince _her_. _I'm_ not the one that can crush you with my giant hammer, after all."

"Technically, neither could she, as she is only equipped with a dagger," he pointed out, but sighed. "Very well. Warden, do you have anything else to ask me? Or have you made a decision about my future?"

Suddenly, all eyes were on her. Cybelle felt very self-conscious, like she was back at Redcliffe with Jowan and Isolde and everyone was waiting for her to make the decision about who would live and who would die… she couldn't do this. Not with him listening and watching. "Close your eyes," she snapped, sheathing her dagger. "And put your hands over your ears."

"I do not see the point of this," the elf said, clapping his hands over his ears and closing his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was slightly louder. "However, I will indulge you."

"Shianni, what do you think?" Cybelle asked once she was sure that he was staying put in his chair. "What has he done in the alienage for all this time? Just… stayed at his home?"

"No," she answered, looking thoughtful. "He helps, sometimes. Delivers things for Alarith, helps remove dead branches from the vhenadahl, normal things like that. I guess now I understand that – he said he didn't want to draw attention to himself. Helping too much or not helping at all would do that."

"So he hasn't caused any… trouble? Or anything like that?"

"I don't think so. Maybe a few brawls, but hey, I'm guilty of that, too," she said, glancing over at the elf. "If it helps, I remember him looking honestly surprised when I told him you were my cousin. I guess that doesn't prove anything, though, since he _is _a trained assassin."

Cybelle scowled, unable to decide what to do with the foreign elf. He had looked surprised, but his expressions couldn't be trusted because he was an assassin. He helped, but that might not have been genuine help since, once again, _he was an assassin. _All these contradictions weren't doing her any good!

"What are you going to decide?" Shianni asked after a moment, breaking Cybelle's train of thought. "Are we going to keep him or boot him out?"

"You're the bann! Shouldn't you be deciding this?"

"Honestly, I think I'm fine with him staying. He knew you were coming. He could have set up a trap or ambushed you. He could have been armed and killed me or you just now. But he didn't."

"He could be waiting for an opportunity."

"Or he could be someone that wants another chance," Shianni said after a moment. She raised an eyebrow at her cousin and a certain expression fell upon her features. Cybelle sighed. She knew that expression all too well – it was practically the same as saying, _you should listen to what I'm saying and agree with me_. "But you're the one he tried to kill. If you're not alright with him staying, then we can tell him to leave."

"I'm not sure he would actually follow that order," Cybelle said, sighing. She approached the nearby table, snatched up what looked to be a hard and crusty piece of bread, and chucked it at the elf. He opened his eyes abruptly, removing his hands from his ears. "You can listen again."

He picked up the fallen piece of bread from where it had landed on the floor and one of his eyebrows rose. "I assume you came to a decision?"

Decisions, decisions. Why did _she _always have to be the one to make decisions that would change a person's life? If the elf was telling the truth and she evicted him from the alienage, he would probably be killed by the Crows on his way to Highever. But if she let him stay and he was _working _for the Crows still, _she _would die. Or her family would, which still wasn't a pleasant option.

"I…" she glanced over at Shianni. Shianni, who had been hurt because of Cybelle's decision to insult Vaughan to his face. That had certainly been a bad idea, though she hadn't realized it until later, when she had learned that Shianni had been abused and violated by the bann's son. The Warden sighed. "You can stay. For now. Don't get too comfortable – I might change my mind later."

"Comfortable? In an alienage? Impossible," the elf said with a grin, standing from his chair. "I appreciate you allowing me to stay here. Temporarily, of course, I understand that I might have to leave at the slightest notice and all of that."

"Right. As long as you understand that."

"I do, I assure you. If you have any other things you'd like to ask me, feel free to stop by and interrogate me some more."

Cybelle imagined that there wouldn't necessarily be a need to interrogate him – judging by the last time they had met, secrets tended to fall from his mouth. She had known his name, who sent him, and what organization he belonged to before she had time to think. "I will. I had one more question, actually."

"Yes?"

"I don't remember your name."

"It is Zevran. Zev-"

"To your friends. Right," Cybelle said, pressing her fingertips to her temples as she stepped backwards towards the door. She didn't trust him enough to have her back facing him. "I remember now. I'm Cybelle."

"Yes, I know. Your cousin told me that."

As the cousins walked back towards Shianni's house, Cybelle began to wonder what else the redheaded elf had told Zevran. "I bet you told him more than he needed to know," she began dryly. "What else did you tell him? Weaknesses? All my secrets?"

"You don't have any secrets," Shianni said with a short laugh. "Everyone in Ferelden knows what you've done. I heard they're planning on writing a book about you. I hope I'll be in it."

"Great, a book. Then everyone can see just where I come from. A poor alienage elf, conscripted when she was about to be put into jail for murdering a slew of important men."

Shianni scowled at her. "Do you always have to be so pessimistic? You didn't do _that_. What you did was bravely save multiple people from… well. Death. Or _worse_. You should be proud. Ferelden will still be proud of its hero, especially when they realize all the things that you've had to overcome."

Cybelle snorted. Right. Sometimes she felt a little bad – Ferelden had to deal with having _her _as its hero. She got the job done, sure, but she made the wrong decisions sometimes. Like putting Harrowmont on the dwarven throne – that hadn't lasted long. And the city of Amaranthine had burned to the ground… that hadn't been very good. People had even been whispering that she had done it on purpose, as an act of revenge for the elves.

"I'll talk to you tomorrow, Shianni," she said, embracing her cousin tightly at her doorstep. "I think it's about time I saw my father."

"Say hello for me," Shianni said with a grin, stepping into her home where the party was _still _occurring. "And… welcome home. I'm glad you're here."

Cybelle smiled slightly as she waved goodbye, walking away from her cousin's home. She was glad to be home, too, she just hoped it wouldn't result in everyone she cared about being assassinated.

When the dark-haired elf arrived at her father's front door, she noticed that every single light in the home was off. She sighed as she fingered her necklace for a moment before pulling it over her head. Three objects hung there: a vial of darkspawn blood, a simple wedding band, and a key to her home. She pulled the key off of the chain, stuck it into the keyhole, and entered her home.

It was dark, but she could hear Cyrion snoring. The sound made her feel slightly guilty – she should have come home and seen him immediately instead of going to Shianni's first. She made a mental note to rise before he did and cook him some breakfast. Or at least her attempt at breakfast – she tended to burn things. Still, Cyrion was always appreciative of her efforts.

Cybelle moved slowly through the dark house, trying to conjure up a mental floorplan of her home. The table was over there… _thunk. _Her knee collided with something hard and a moment of fumbling in the darkness revealed that the table was _not _over _there, _it was right _here. _She gritted her teeth as her knee throbbed, carefully pressing onward into the home.

Apparently no other furniture had been rearranged, as she made it to her old bed smoothly. Or, wait. It wasn't her _old _bed. It was just her bed. Still. Cybelle frowned in the dark room, taking her dagger from her belt and removing her boots from her feet. She wasn't very quiet as she did so – Cyrion was a deep sleeper and Maker knew that nothing less of another Blight would rouse him.

She had hoped that sleep would come to her instantly as she flopped onto the mattress, but she had no such luck. Instant replays and worries kept popping into her head – what if Zevran came into her house? Would she hear him? Would – was that a floorboard creaking? Her grip on her dagger, which she had slid beneath her pillow, tightened. She waited, listening and straining to see something in the darkness. Nothing.

After lying in her bed for a good hour and a half, she reluctantly sighed. That stupid assassin was getting to her. She couldn't shake the idea that he was going to come and try to kill her while she slept. Cybelle ordered herself from the bed, slipping her boots on and tucking her dagger into its empty sheath. Personally, she couldn't wait until her maul arrived from Amaranthine. It was being repaired and cleaned, something she was grateful for as it had started to smell like blood all the time. Still, its absence caused her unease; the flimsy dagger wasn't nearly as heavy as the massive hammer.

She made a mental note to pick up a temporary maul in the marketplace in the morning before she slipped out of Cyrion's front door. The narrow path between her home and the house next door was small and cramped, but well worn by feet using it as a shortcut. Sometimes dogs slept there in the day, as well, but tonight the small alleyway was vacant.

Cybelle was slightly dismayed to see that there wasn't a large stack of boxes and sheets of rusted metal in the alleyway anymore… they must have been either destroyed or removed when the alienage had been attacked. No matter their fate, it was going to make her task a lot harder. She frowned, looking up the alley wall with her hands on her hips. How to climb…

It took her a few minutes, but she eventually decided that the thin drainage system that kept heavy water from collecting on the roof was her best bet for roof access. She wiped her palms on her pants a few times before she gripped the side of the drainage system and began to ascend. Thanks to constantly wielding a heavy maul for the past two years, her upper body strength was substantial enough to allow her to climb up the side of her home within a few minutes.

The roof was weak in a few spots (she had spent years placing pots and buckets around their home when it rained) but she knew the locations of these spots well. Cybelle stepped carefully around the more worn patches of the roof, climbing up to the ridge of the roof. It was a prime place to sit, with the marketplace of Denerim stretching before her and the moon illuminating the sky.

The elf fingered the wooden beam she was sitting on, saddened to find that it had been replaced since she had last sat upon it. At one point the piece of wood that stretched along the ridge had been engraved with names of those who had ventured upon the roof. Cyrion and Adaia had been the first names, then Cybelle. Eventually Soris and Shianni had joined the short list of names, too. But evidently that beam had gotten old and rotten, or perhaps burned when the city had been attacked, because this new beam was smooth and absent of any purposefully carved marking.

Her dagger was removed from its sheath and she began to carve the names into this new piece of wood. It took her longer than she had expected and the result was… not good. Cyrion had been a skilled carver and the names he had engraved into the wood had been beautiful and flowery, with swirling designs filling the spaces between the names. Her attempt was not the same at all. Cybelle's handwriting was rough and crude and even the names themselves were lies. Adaia had not sat upon this ridge and she never would.

Cybelle frowned down at the names, suddenly angry at herself. Carving those names wouldn't make her mother alive again or Cyrion happy. It wouldn't make Soris' wife come back to the alienage and it wouldn't undo what Vaughan had done to Shianni.

She spun the dagger between her fingers idly, trying to chase those thoughts from her head by focusing on flipping the dagger. "Ouch," she hissed after a few minutes, only succeeding in nicking her thumb. A bead of blood dribbled out of the small slice, rolling into the roof and leaving a crimson path behind it.

"And to think I imagined you would slice _me_ open with that dagger. It seems you are more proficient at slicing _yourself_."

Cybelle turned, startled to see a vague shadowy outline on the roof across from her house. She couldn't identify the person by their face, since they were a silhouette against the moon, but Zevran's voice was very distinctive. She was sure it was him. "Did you follow me?"

"No, I did not. I believe I was actually on this roof first and then watched you climb up onto _your _roof," he explained nonchalantly. "Technically, you were the one doing the following."

"It wasn't intentional," she assured him, her voice a bit harder than she had meant it to be. But she still did not – could not – trust this elf.

"Of that I have no doubt. Can I ask why you're up there? Can't sleep?" he paused, a low chuckle coming from his mouth. "Ah, I see your daggers. You thought I would try to kill you why you slept."

"Wouldn't you, though?" she accused. Killing someone while they slept was easy. They were at their weakest, without a defense in the world. It would be easier to kill her now, in the alienage, when there was only her father in the same room. During the Blight, she had been surrounded by trained and deadly companions, some of who were light sleepers. _That _would be a stupid time to strike, but here it was perfect.

"Perhaps," he admitted, not sounding sorry at all. His honesty wasn't exactly reassuring, but it was better than lying to her. "Only if I thought it would get me a better home. This alienage… it is all mud and dogs and cramped spaces."

"This is my home," she said, her voice hardening again. He was insulting _her home. _In front of her face. When she had a dagger. "If you don't like it, you can leave."

"I would _love _to escape this soggy place. However, as aforementioned, I cannot." An unhappy sigh escaped his lips, a soft one that was barely audible as it carried across the street to her ears.

"You know," Cybelle began after a moment. "It looks suspicious that you're up here. Across from my house. In the middle of the night. Probably armed, too."

"Not _probably. _Always. I am always armed," he corrected. Once again with the honesty. Did he never attempt to lie? "Only a fool wakes in the middle of the night and doesn't think to bring some sort of weapon with them. Speaking of weapons – you seem to have lost your giant hammer. I remember it very clearly. My toenail hasn't grown back yet, if you care to know."

"Don't change the subject."

"Ah, so you noticed that, did you?" he laughed. "Sharp. Some people say all Grey Wardens are dumb, but no. You obviously caught my smooth transition."

"Sarcasm doesn't help your case."

"Sarcasm?" Zevran asked, sounding offended. She saw a hand raise, pressed against his chest dramatically as if her words had wounded him. "I would never, Cybelle."

She didn't like the way he spoke her name so casually, as if they were old friends instead of assassin and target. "You apparently also never answer questions. You said if I had any questions I could ask you. I did and you're not answering."

"Technically, you did not ask a question."

"Fine," she said, frustrated. This man was too good at skirting around questions and explanations, though he had been open earlier in the day. His sudden evasiveness was suspicious. "Why are you up here?"

"You are not the only one that cannot sleep because they fear they are being hunted," he said quietly, his fingertips drumming against the roof. "I expect death every night."

Cybelle paused. It seemed to be some sort of irony – the man she feared and distrusted was also afraid. "I keep forgetting about your Crows," she said finally, thinking of nothing else to say to him. The sentence itself was a lie. She had not stopped thinking about Zevran or the Crows. They had been on her mind and in the shadows of her eyesight constantly.

"I don't know if I should laugh or cringe at the way that you Fereldans so casually mention the Crows. In Antiva, you do not speak of them unless you want them to appear. And, trust me, it is not something that most people wish."

No, she didn't want them to appear, either. Because they would most likely figure out that she, the Grey Warden they were supposed to assassinate, lived in this very alienage. Or even if she wasn't in the alienage at the time they appeared – her family and friends would be. Cybelle stood from her spot on the roof, stretching.

"I'm going to bed," she told him. Not necessarily going to _sleep_¸ but going to bed. It was easier than staying up here, chatting with the Crow like it wasn't forced and awkward for the both of them. "Goodnight."

"Sleep well, Warden," he said quietly, not moving from his own perch on his roof. Evidently he had no intention to leave it, either, because as she began to climb down the side of the house, he was still there. Cybelle cast a glance up at the rooftop before she opened the door to her home, but she couldn't tell if Zevran was gone or not.

She stayed awake for only another hour, before finally she became too tired to care if Zevran was sneaking into her home or not. Cybelle rolled over in her bed, pressing her face into her pillow and falling asleep.


End file.
